


The Falling and Breaking of a Glass Vase

by FeelsVomit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Death, a little bit of torture, basically Bucky after he falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:56:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsVomit/pseuds/FeelsVomit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They broke Bucky like falling glass vase. He fell and the second he hit the cold ground he shattered into pieces and covered the floor.<br/>First they have to make him as fragile as a glass vase.</p>
<p>(Snapshots of Bucky after the fall as they try to make him into the Winter Soldier)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Falling and Breaking of a Glass Vase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emiliahparton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiliahparton/gifts).



> This was just a idea I had after going through fan videos of Bucky.
> 
> If you have stumbled onto this, you may want to go check out emiliahparton because she is awesome and is really good at writing. So go check her stuff out, it's better than what you've stumbled onto here.
> 
> Emiliahparton thank you so much for editing this and for being an awesome friend. I wouldn't have written this without your encouragement. I love ya bro.

 

> They came and took his battered body. They dragged him like a dead animal along the ground. The snow- falling in flurries around him- was causing the cold to seep into his limbs. The pain that was tearing through his body made his vision blur.
> 
>  
> 
> It was all white.
> 
>  
> 
> White and red. 
> 
>  
> 
> His left arm splintered and throbbed. He could not move it. He could not feel it except for the white, blinding pain that made him feel like he was burning. It danced along his nerves like a forest fire. He wanted to scream until his lungs were reduced to ashes and his throat was sore. But no sound came out. It was as though he’d lost his voice as he'd lost his breath. 
> 
>  
> 
> He couldn’t breathe. 
> 
>  
> 
> Death hung above him, like a cloud of smoke in front of his lips, ready to be breathed in and claim his body. It should have already wrapped around him, choked the life out of him, but it hadn't. Something was keeping it bay. It had raced around him with the winds as he had fallen. It had dug its claws into him and pulled him towards the ground. Bucky was falling into hell, into death, away from Steve. 
> 
>  
> 
> The searing pain refused to fade and death refused to claim him. It was as though the reaper had seen his broken form and deemed his soul unworthy to leave, to enter heaven. 
> 
>  
> 
> It was so cold and yet he burned. He burned in the hellfire. 
> 
>  
> 
> He always knew he was never worthy to enter heaven. The fire that consumed his body just proved he had been right.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> The straps held him down. The faceless demons had shown some mercy and injected him with something to numb the pain. It was now a dull weight on his body,  like simmering ashes on his nerves. He heard the sound of machines around him; the sound of the blade as it cut through what remained of his arm, making him want to pull back and curl up away from them. The demons. His body wanted to fight but the straps and the weight of his fear kept him still. 
> 
>  
> 
> Voices were miles away. His whole mind was blurred and the lights were too bright. Wordless thoughts raced and raced and raced. On and on and on. His chest was hollow, with his heart beating to the rhythm of his fear. He desperately tried to run into his memories- to escape this bitter reality. 
> 
>  
> 
> The streets of Brooklyn where kids with scrapped knees ran shouting. A blonde kid running behind, slower. Bucky felt himself slowing down to allow the kid a chance to keep up. Just as Bucky began to settle into the memory, it became a battlefield. A shell flew ahead. Dust and rubble were thrown into the air. The kids kept running towards the damage. Not stopping- they couldn’t see the danger. Bucky looked back at the blonde who had caught up with him and he stopped at his shoulder. He turned to look at the kids who were running into the path of a shell, into the wreckage from the one before- but they weren’t kids, not anymore. They were running in green uniforms that were coated in mud and blood. Bucky tried to call out. No sound was heard until the shell hit. The kid soldiers ran into the grey cloud of ruin, towards the yellow fires that flickered through the smoke screen. Bucky could no longer see them. 
> 
>  
> 
> _"Compliance will be rewarded.”_ A heavily accented voice rang through the air. His lungs weren’t working properly, he couldn’t breathe.
> 
>  
> 
> “Bucky?” The skinny kid said. Bucky turned to him. _Steve._
> 
>  
> 
> An invisible punch landed in his gut and he stumbled to his knees. What felt like two kicks landed themselves on his ribs. He grunted with the pain before something rammed into his spine, forcing him lower on the ground. He looked up at Steve. He was no longer a skinny kid- he was taller. More fists and kicks came from the air around him.
> 
>  
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> Bucky begged to the Steve before him. He did not react. 
> 
>  
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> “Steve, please help!” Bucky whimpered between wounding blows. Steve just smiled at him slowly.
> 
>  
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> _Compliance will be rewarded_  was the only reply from his surroundings. The darkness washed over him, pulling him from his failed escape.
> 
>  
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> * * *
> 
>  

  
 This time they beat him too hard. They almost broke him. His chest felt crushed. He struggled get oxygen. Air became a luxury- a drug to his body, grasped in between the water and the baton.                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

 

If he was able to look at his chest, he would see that it was covered in black and purple splotches that couldn't be distinguished from one another. He was healing quicker than a normal person, so they could afford to hit him harder. Days and nights blurred. They used light to torture him, darkness to scare him. He only knew the repetitive patterns of fist and kicks. The electric shocks that hurt him from the inside out. 

 

They were letting him rest. There was no point killing something useful. 

 

Fear. That’s what he felt every second. One eye forced shut by swelling. Limbs unable to move freely. Burning, greedy lungs. Any second they could return and every second they didn’t meant they were coming sooner. His shaky breathes were not just due to the pain but the crushing weight of fear that rested on his chest. 

 

He could not escape the fear. His memories were tainted by it. His actions were based on it. He would do anything to escape it, and yet he refused to give into the demons. Some of Steve’s stubbornness must have rubbed off on him. 

 

They could come whenever and he would not comply. He may be scared, but he’d never give up on Steve and become one of those hydra bastards.

 

* * *

 

Bucky thought they would never break him. He prayed to every non-existent god. 

 

They turned him into an animal. They treated him like a dog. Beat him and kicked him. Starved him and drowned him.

 

They broke him.

 

Zola walked in, his face smug. He spoke compassionately but Bucky didn’t pay attention to the words- he didn’t trust him. His body was still sore from the last beating. 

 

“I am truly sorry to say this, but Steve Rogers is dead.” The words cut through Bucky like a blade.

 

Steve Rogers. Everything rushed at once; Steve with a bleeding face and stubborn attitude, laughing and pushing Bucky away when he ruffled his hair. His drawings stuck around the apartment. His weak lungs and ability to catch every cold, his big mouth and smart, quick nature. The little punk who signed up when he was away and became Captain America. The bar drinks and the invasion of Hydra bases. 

 

It all rushed at once and carved out Bucky’s insides. It went as quickly as it came. All the emotions just disappeared. Dread and fear filled every crack and crevice in his mind. He was afraid. Afraid of everything. 

 

A paper was thrown at him. He looked down. The words were English. There was a picture of Steve. **_Captain America: The Hero who Sacrificed it all_**

 

Zola watched as the light faded from the soldier’s eyes. He smiled.  The soldier was ready to be fully moulded- they could begin. 

 

Bucky Barnes came the closest to death that day than he had in his whole life. Death wasn’t willing to claim him, not yet. It left him to demons and monsters. He wasn’t worthy to die, but Steve was worthy enough to live.

 

There was no righteous God.

 

* * *

 

“Wipe him. He has the emotions we need to control him. He does not need the information,” Zola instructed, “In fact, it will be a mercy to him. Compliance will be rewarded.”


End file.
